


passing the torch

by tooattachedtofiction



Series: Arachnid [1]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Mentioned Ned Leeds, OC, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Teen Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:15:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29313945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tooattachedtofiction/pseuds/tooattachedtofiction
Summary: The first night off from patrol, Peter attempted to make pizza. The dough was supposed to just sit by itself for hours. What did you do in those hours? Make more dough? And why the fuck did it not automatically stay round when he finally pushed it to the edges of the pan?He suddenly had a great appreciation for every person who ever worked at a pizzeria.(Peter finds a new Spider-Man before he goes to college.)
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Arachnid [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2153205
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	passing the torch

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beta reader, @marvel-imagines-yes-please on tumblr for looking this over for me! This universe is primarily based on MCU and MCEU, but doesn't exactly follow the canon (i.e. Natasha, Tony, and Steve are still alive and well). This is the first part in the Arachnid series :)

_ “New York will go on without you,”  _ a voice whispers every time Peter thinks about college. It’ll be the center of chaos, sure, but New York doesn’t care about Peter Parker. New York has way too many superheroes to notice if one leaves. 

There’s Daredevil and Jessica Jones and Luke Cage and Deadpool and the Avengers, and probably more. 

Knowing New York, there are definitely more. 

Still, Peter got a sinking feeling every time he thought about leaving. The rational part of his head told him to leave it alone. Yet his Spidey-sense and anxiety refused to stop picking at it. 

When the time had come to apply for college, Peter had been very firm on his stance that he was not leaving New York. He was  _ not _ leaving his city alone to crash and burn for the millionth time. Peter’s argument was that trouble would always follow him, but only New York knew how to deal with the trauma and damage that came with said trouble. His second, slightly less reasonable argument, was that he couldn’t leave his Aunt May. 

However, when he explained this to Tony Stark, his mentor, he vehemently disagreed. 

“You’re a kid. You should be growing up normally.” He’d said. “Go away for college. Broaden your horizons. We’ll keep New York and your aunt safe.” 

Normal, Mr. Stark? 

They both knew Peter was way, way past normalcy. When he was sixteen, Tony had dragged him into the middle of an Avengers civil war. At the age of seventeen, he’d disintegrated into dust in the middle of an intergalactic war and spent five Earth years asleep. And then when he had come back to his old life and attempted to go on a regular school trip, someone chased him to Europe and tried to kill him again. The more Peter tried to be normal, the more danger followed. 

And frankly, he wanted to live, thank you very much. 

But Tony was more stubborn than Peter was, so Peter applied outside of New York. MIT. Cornell. Yale. 

In the beginning, he’d applied just to see if he could get in. Ned had stuck to his guns about Cornell, and MJ was hell-bent on going to the west coast for school. Together, the three of them spent most of their free time writing essays like their lives depended on it, because in a way, they kind of did. Then applications were over and there were more essays to write to get scholarships, and more people to save in New York, because New York always needed to be saved, apparently. 

Lo and behold, Peter  _ did _ get into the top schools. He sent the confirmation letter to MIT and the school year ended before he realized what he had done. 

Peter wasn’t going to rescind his status as an MIT student, no matter how much he wanted to stay in New York. May and Tony wouldn’t let him. 

“New York can survive without Spiderman for a few months. You can always resume the webbing during breaks.” Tony told him again and again, but Peter couldn’t shake his anxiety off. 

“Take one week off patrol and see how it goes,” Ned had suggested. And Peter, having the endless need to do anything and everything to please those around him, foolishly agreed. 

He suddenly had way too much free time. What was he supposed to do at night? Watch TV? Bake? Cook? Was he supposed to go to sleep early? Who in their right mind went to sleep earlier than four in the morning? 

The first night off from patrol, Peter attempted to make pizza. The dough was supposed to just sit by itself for hours. What did you do in those hours? Make more dough? And why the fuck did it not automatically stay round when he finally pushed it to the edges of the pan? 

He suddenly had a great appreciation for every person who ever worked at a pizzeria. 

The second day, Peter resolved to watch every single Star Wars movie without sleeping. He got to The Empire Strikes Back before having an internal dilemma about not doing his responsibility to protect his city. The rest of the night was spent listening to his police radio and glancing out of his window every five seconds. 

Today was the third day. Before he could argue with himself, Peter jumped out of the window and into the streets.

  
  
  
  


Peter had dealt with his fair share of copycats. According to Mr. Stark, it was normal for all of the Avengers to have vigilante copycats that caused more trouble than they prevented. Most of them were harmless. When they weren’t harmless, they were at most, irritating. Potential supervillain material, but the Avengers generally caught onto that sort of thing within a few days. Sure, they could sue for copyright reasons, but that required going to court, and the number of cases that would come out of it would be frankly overwhelming. Still, out of all of the heroes in New York City, Spider-Man had the most copycats. 

None of them even bothered to interact with him or accuse him of being an imposter. Funnily enough, they avoided Peter at all costs, not even trying to pretend they were the real thing. 

Except one. 

There was someone who had been following him for the past month. Whoever they were, they weren’t very tall, or discrete. They’d taken a copy of his original, fire-truck red and bright blue spandex suit and had made a few adjustments. The most notable change was the coloring of the suit. It was now black with hints of turquoise. In addition to the color swap, they had also added lace-up, steel-toed boots. Their hands were wrapped in some kind of black boxer’s tape. 

They’d shown up at most of his fights, no matter how tall the building was. And yet, they never once approached him, always keeping a safe distance. It was mildly stalker-y, but they hadn’t tried to kill him yet, and Peter was generally too preoccupied to say much other than the usual quips. 

Tonight, Peter decided, was the night that he was going to figure out once and for all what the hell this person wanted. 

He’d just finished webbing up another violent drunk when the copy-cat appeared, looking at him owlishly. Jesus, they were even smaller up close. They must have been younger than him. 

“Who are you?” He called out, and for a moment, the copy-cat looked like they were gonna bounce. They glanced at him, then at the building behind them, then back at him. After a few seconds of consideration, they chose to stay still. 

“What do you want?” He asked, when it became apparent to him that the copy-cat was not going to answer his first question, he offered another. “Do you want a signature or a photo? If you wanted one, all you needed to do was ask.” 

The copy-cat shook their head and returned their stare to him mutely. “Well, unless you tell me why you’re following me, I’m going to continue my patrol.” He said. The copy-cat made no other move, so he aimed his wrist and swung east. 

Ten blocks later, Peter stumbled upon an armed robbery of a 24-hour corner store. As much as he hated guns, he practically ran towards the gunfire with open arms. 

“Who’s idea was it to rob a place at one in the morning?” Peter groaned as he dodged bullets. 

“Must have been an oversight.” A female voice replied. The turquoise copy-cat from earlier had appeared and was now kicking a gun out of someone’s hand. Before the guy could process what was happening, the copy-cat knocked him out with a swift blow to the head. Another robber took a shot at her. Miraculously, it was dodged. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Peter yelled over the gunfire, kicking her assailant. “Guns are dangerous.” 

“Says the man who flew straight into a gunfight.” She retorted, dodging another bullet. Peter wasn’t sure how to respond to that. 

“I have enhanced healing abilities.” He said, webbing the second guy and heading for the last one. He blocked a punch and knocked the wind out of the last robber, shooting more web and trapping him on the ground. 

“So do I.” The girl retorted. Well fuck, how was he supposed to respond to that? “I called it in before I joined in on the fun. Cops are on their way.” 

“See you on the roof?” 

  
  
  


“Who are you?” Peter asked again once they were a few blocks away, on another rooftop. 

“I’m Spiderman.” 

“Spiderman doesn’t wear turquoise.” 

“They do now.” Peter glared at her. She stared back, her lenses blank. He imagined that the eyes behind the mask were grinning in delight at his torment. 

“You don’t want my life.” 

“I’m not trying to take your life. I have powers, and I’m gonna use them.” 

What. 

Peter peered at her. Why wasn’t this child at Xavier’s? Didn’t they deal with this shit all the time? Was she even on their radar yet?

“You’re a kid.” Peter was grasping at straws. That was basically the only argument he had while his brain tried to catch up on the robbery they’d just prevented. 

“You’re not much older.” 

“You have powers,” Peter started, “Just because you have powers doesn’t mean you need to be a superhero-” 

“Isn’t your whole motto ‘with great power comes great responsibility’?”

Peter was digging a hole deep enough to be his grave with these questions. He wanted to bang his head against a brick wall. How did the Avengers deal with so much of this shit from him when he was younger? 

The copy-cat’s stare was unwavering. Peter had the sudden urge to tell this person his whole life story as if she actually cared about it. 

“Who are you?” He asked. The third time’s a charm, right? 

“Spiderman.” 

UGH. 

  
  
  


This continued into June, and then into July. Every night, the copy-cat would follow Peter, and every night, their conversation ran in circles. Peter found himself falling into a routine with this person, waiting on the same rooftop for her once it was clear that the sun was going down. Neither of them really said anything other than the usual argument. As much as Peter hated to admit it, this copy-cat seemed to have a vast knowledge about MMA, which included getting out of various kidnapping situations. Despite her small stature, he’d seen her take down enough body-builders to know that she was packing at least some muscle. 

She was definitely enhanced, although her powers were still a murky territory. From the little that Peter had observed, her survival instincts were stronger than the average person. 

The press had started photographing them together, especially since they started making more and more appearances after their initial meeting. Youtube videos were being uploaded constantly. Forums, Twitter and Facebook debated what this new hero’s name was. They couldn’t call her ‘Spider-Man’ too, but she also didn’t use web travel to get around. For a month, New York wondered what to call the vigilante. 

When Peter asked who she was, she gave the same response. Apparently, they were both Spider-Man, regardless of the fact that one had held the title for much longer than the other. 

July flew by and suddenly, it was August, and Peter had to start preparing. He hadn’t expected to get close to the copy-cat within the span of a summer, and he definitely wasn’t sure how to drop off the face of New York now that she was expecting him to fight with her every night. 

“We should talk,” Peter said one evening when she appeared on the roof. The copy-cat stared at him. 

“Okay.” She said, sensing his serious tone. He took off, sprinting across Brooklyn, and she had no choice but to follow him. 

They ended up in Queens at one of Peter’s favorite perches. The sun was close to disappearing behind the horizon, and they were high enough to not be seen by passerby. Peter dangled his legs over the edge of the roof while she stood closer to the nearby electric units. 

“How long have we known each other?” Peter asked, swinging his legs back and forth over the street below. 

“Uh, two, three months?” 

“We’ve known each other three months and I still don’t know your name.”

“To be fair, I don’t know yours,” She couldn’t help but fire back a response. Sometimes her mouth moved before she could bite back the harsh tone. By now, Peter had learned that her words weren’t intentionally harsh even when they sounded like they were. He only laughed in response. 

“I’m leaving the city soon,” Peter announced, looking at the skyline. He turned his head, hoping to see a dramatic reaction from the copy-cat. Instead, she only joined him on the ledge, copying his posture. 

“What do you mean?” Her voice was softer than it had ever been when he had talked to her before. “You’re not like, dying, are you?” 

Peter chuckled. “No, ‘s nothing like that.” 

“Then why are you leaving?” 

Peter ignored the question. “I was fifteen when I started doing this. I could have walked away and pretended to be normal, but once I figured out I could save people, it became my life. Through all of it, the Avengers, the snap, I’ve been a teenager trying to make New York a little better. Walking old ladies across the street. Saving people from muggers. Shutting down illegal operations. All of that shit, and I’m still not even legal.” Peter laughed despite himself. The copy-cat sucked in a breath, nodding. 

“I’m going to college, out of state. And there’s nothing you or New York City can do about it.” Peter switched his gaze and turned his head toward the copy-cat. “I don’t know why you want to be like me. I don’t know your abilities or your name or your life. But I trust you. And that’s saying a lot.” He looked back at the city again. “I’m not leaving forever. I’ll be back. You don’t have to have the world on your shoulders. There are other people like us who’ll help you in a heartbeat.” 

“If you don’t want this, you can stop at any time. New York will always have somebody to take care of it. But, if you’re up to it, I want you to take care of this place for me. Look after Brooklyn.” He looked at her again, then turned and swung his legs back over the ledge to safety. “There are a couple of weeks before I go. You don’t need to make a decision yet.” 

“Spidey…” 

He pulled his mask off. “My name’s Peter Parker.” 

To Peter’s surprise, the copy-cat grinned and pulled her own mask off. “Maria Adalyn Aquino. But most people call me Andie.” 

  
  
  


Andie was fourteen, about to enter high school. It was hard to define her in one word because when the mask was on, she snickered and cursed and shouted insults in a variety of languages. When the mask was off, she was suddenly the best goddamn child in the world. She was mixed - half-Filipino, half-Latino. 

In between fights and web-slinging lessons, Andie gave bits and pieces of her life to Peter. She insisted that the knowledge of his identity was enough of a fair trade to unlock her entire life story. Peter couldn’t exactly disagree, because by the time he had an argument formed she was already rambling about her earliest memories. Apparently, once Andie started talking, it was hard to get her to stop. 

Very. Hard. 

Andie didn’t know her biological father. She didn’t know if that man knew she existed. Regardless, she didn’t want to find him. 

When Andie was three years old, her mom enrolled her in martial arts classes. Mostly for the childcare, but also because three-year-old Andie had apparently been “on a constant, neverending sugar rush”. MMA taught the baby spawn how to sit still and listen to her mother. It also apparently taught her “how to be a fucking ninja”. 

Somehow, while all of this was happening, Andie’s mom fell in love with one of the senseis at the martial arts school and four years later, Andie had a new father. It didn’t matter if they weren’t blood, Will Jackson was Andie’s father. He’d made that promise when she was four and was hell-bent on keeping it. 

A few years later, Andie’s mom got involved with Wilson Fisk. Andie said that she couldn’t remember what exactly her mom did for Fisk, but it was some science work that had to do with human biology. 

And then Spider-Man came into existence when Andie was eleven. Fisk wanted a human weapon, an anti-Spider-Man. Andie’s mom was the only one who could produce results. By the time Andie was thirteen, they’d found a spider and figured out just how much radioactivity they could expose to it. They needed someone to test it on. Andie’s mother, furious, left the company and took her research with her. Only for the spider to bite Andie and Fisk to send his men after Andie’s mother, who had fled into hiding shortly after Andie had been bitten. Autopsy reports revealed that her mother was hit by a car. Andie and her step-father believed otherwise. 

“I woke up one day after the accident and no one but Dad could hear me. The rest of the world thought I was mute. When I got nervous, I could see through my hands. I have the other shit you got too. Enhanced healing, balance, all of that stuff.” Andie told him as they sat on the Empire State building one evening, clutching their free coffees they’d gotten from an overnight cafe at two in the morning. “Dad’s taught me how to use a katana, staff, the whole nine yards. I’m good with daggers and sai, but I’m not sure if I want to use them. Spiderman’s whole thing is the web, anyways.” 

“We don’t kill, either. That’s a no-no.” 

“Yeah. I’d rather not have someone’s blood on my hands.” 

“You need a better suit.” Andie shot him an offended look and scowled. Peter tilted his head in question, as if he hadn’t just shit on her homemade suit. 

“The hell’s wrong with this one?” 

“I think your boots are about to lose their soles, for one thing.” 

There was a pause. Andie took a sip of her now-cold coffee and mumbled, “It’s the only thing I got. I don’t have the money for upgrades, and this is a major time suck, so a job’s out of the question.” 

“Need I remind you, you’re fourteen. You shouldn’t even be doing this.” 

She shot him another scathing look. He put his hands up in defense. 

“Any other suggestions for where I can get a suit, genius?” 

Peter hummed as he thought. His first suit had been given to him by Mr. Stark, but he’d since made quite a few upgrades. For one, he’d taken out the tracker and Stark override keys. He’d changed the coloring as well. 

“I can make you one.” Peter offered a few minutes later, once Andie had finished her coffee. 

“I can’t pay you shit, Parker.” 

“I’ll do it for free.” She stared incredulously at him. “What? It’s the least I can do since you’re taking care of my city while I’m at college.” 

“ _ Parker. _ ” 

“ _ Jackson. _ ” He mimicked. “It’ll be my last project in the Stark labs.” 

“You don’t even know how to sew.” 

“I know enough. Give me a week and you’ll be swinging in a new suit before I leave. I’ll put a police radio in and everything.”    
  


“Go ahead,” Andie said in disbelief, firing a web off and flying back over the streets of New York. Peter scrambled to follow her. 

  
  


Peter appeared on their usual rooftop the following week, his lenses squinted in excitement. He’d tried his best to wrap the present, but eventually, he shoved it into a gift bag and that was that. 

Andie appeared at sundown, as always. She tilted her head when she saw Spidey’s expression, but it wasn’t until she was closer that she noticed the paper bag in his hands. “I was joking when I said “go ahead”.” She said cautiously. “You didn’t have to do this. I’m not going to accept it.” 

“Too bad.” Peter said, holding out the bag to her. “It’s yours now. Besides, it wouldn’t even fit me.” 

She pulled the suit out, observing it carefully. “Isn’t Spiderman’s suit supposed to be red and blue?” She lifted the hood, noting that the inside fabric was a dark magenta while the outside was her signature turquoise. The wraps for her fists were also magenta. 

“It’s turquoise, red, and black now.” Peter shrugged. “You’re not me, you don’t have to stick to the colors.” 

“You really made a suit for me.” Andie gasped. “This is… No one’s ever given me something like this.” 

“Be careful with it, and make sure it doesn’t fall apart before I can fix it over Thanksgiving.” Peter warned as she reached into the bag and pulled out her own web-shooters. “It took a while to get around the hurdle of invisibility cloaking, but Mr. Richards helped me with that. Now you can use your powers with the suit.” 

“I don’t really know what to say.” 

“Go home and put it on, I’ll wait here.” Peter waved her off. 

_ “New York will be fine without you, Parker.” _ The voice in his head was comforting now.  _ “She’ll take good care of it.” _

Knowing Andie, she’d take care of his city just fine. 


End file.
